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Dr. Cizzle
In tha winter of 1891, up in a lil' small-ass hood up in France, a thugged-out dark-cloaked n' hooded-figure, strolled tha fuck into town, one crisp morning. His grill bore a white-mask, wit a mad long-beak, protrudin ta his chest. Da eyez of tha mask was straight-up black. Da figure carried a funky-ass bag on his shoulder, as tha pimpin' muthafucka trudged all up in tha snow. Dude stopped up in tha crowd n' announced up loud, "phat mornin ladies n' gentlemen, thugs n' girls, I be Dr. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. C., I be a travelin medicinal-surgeon n' practitioner, I have come ta help you game wise up in yo' village!" Da crowd hollared, smilin n' bobbin his white-gloved-hands. A week later, Dr. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. C. was seated at a thugged-out desk up in a office, readin a funky-ass book, bustin his cloak, hood, gloves n' mask. A knock was heard on tha door n' his schmoooove ass called, "come in, please!" A lady came tha fuck into his crib. "Yo muthafucka, Dr. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. C., excuse me yo, but could I please have some cough syrup fo' mah son?" she asked. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Of course, miss!" he replied, gettin a funky-ass forty of cough syrup off a shelf. "Here yo ass is madam yo, but before you pay me, I wanna show you mah operatin room, please" Dr. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. C. finished, handin her tha bottle. "Why, certainly, Dr. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. C.!" tha biatch replied. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude took her back ta a room, wit a operatin table, n' opened his bag. Da lady looked at dat shit. "This is sick Dr. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. C." her big-ass booty holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Nuff props ma'am, I collect masks, like tha one I be bustin now!" he replied, pullin a gangbangin' flesh-colored mask outta his bag. Da lady looked at dat shit. "Oh, wow, straight-up realistic, doctor!" her big-ass booty holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Biatch felt dat shit. Her eyes grew wide. "Why, dis is flesh, a mans face!!" her big-ass booty screamed up in terror n' dat dunkadelic hoe turned n' ran outta tha room n' crib. Twenty minutes later, two patrolmen rushed tha fuck into tha crib. Dr. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. C. was seated once again, at his fuckin lil' desk. "Yo ass is under arrest, Dr. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. C., fo' murder!" they holla'd, pointin they pistols at his muthafuckin ass. "Alright gentlemen!" Dr. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. C. holla'd n' he gots up n' tha patrolmen grabbed him, still aimin they glocks at his ass as they strutted ta tha operatin room. Da one patrolman picked up Dr. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. C.z bag n' looked inside dat shit. "Ew, herez tha evidence of tha mans grill up in here!" da perved-out muthafucka holla'd, digusted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time. All of a sudden, Dr. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. C., jabbed one of tha patrolmen up in his thugged-out arm, wit a scalpel from his thugged-out lil' pocket. Da patrolman let go of his ass n' yelled up in pain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Dr. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. C. clutched onto tha other patrolmans face. Da patrolman grabbed his wild lil' freakadelic gloved-handz n' pulled tha gloves off. Dr. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. C.z handz was boney n' skeletal. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. Da patrolman screamed n' fired his thugged-out lil' pistol at his muthafuckin ass. Dr. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. C. gots popped right up in his crazy-ass masked-face n' it dropped off. "Thatz right fool, mah name Dr. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. C., standz fo' Dr. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Cannibal yo, but I be long dead n' back from tha grave!" Dr. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. C. laughed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! His grill was a mass of rotted-black-decayed, molderin flesh, his wild lil' fuckin eyes was gone n' chunkz of dirt fell tha fuck outta his crazy-ass grill, as he laughed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Holy crap!!" tha patrolmen screamed both blastin tha zombie. They ran round tha room, continuin ta blast tha corpse of Dr. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. C., as he pursued em. One of tha patrolmen ran tha fuck into tha operatin table, afta da perved-out muthafucka blasted tha zombie again n' again n' again n' saw a plate on tha table, dat had a skull on it wit garnishez of greens round it n' screamed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dr. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. C. ran up ta tha wounded patrolman up in tha corner of tha room n' bit his wild lil' face. Da other patrolman turned round as tha wounded patrolman screamed n' blasted tha zombie up in tha forehead. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da corpse of Dr. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. C. immediately stopped bitin tha wounded patrolmans grill n' ta tha floor. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Da patrolman whoz ass had blasted Dr. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. C., ran outta tha room n' returned moments later, wit bandages n' wrapped tha wounded patrolmanz arm up wit em. They strutted up yo, but looked back all up in tha zombie, ta find dat it had mysteriously disappeared. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Category:No Image Category:Wall of Text